


Baked Goods Act 2007

by Bexless



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/pseuds/Bexless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little snippet of random formless Office Peon AU fic, for everyone who has to work somewhere grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baked Goods Act 2007

Gerard didn’t actually mind doing the photocopying. It was sort of Zen, the repetitive movements and the muted whirr-flash-click of the machine. It was boring, but at least he didn’t have to talk to anybody while he was doing it, and it gave him plenty of time to daydream about having sex with Christina Ricci.

Well, mostly it was sex. Sometimes he daydreamed about meeting her in some non-stalker way, like she would bump into him and accidentally spill coffee all over him – thus necessitating the immediate removal of his clothes – or mistakenly cut in line in front of him in the bakery, and then buy him a jelly donut to make up for it. A real meet-cute, like in the movies.

Inevitably these daydreams blurred hazily from the initial, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I almost hit you with my car! Let me give you an awesome blowjob to make up for it,” to vague montages of him and Christina sitting in coffee shops, talking about music and art and life and everything. In the daydreams he was always articulate, witty, a master of conversation, and she usually sat with her chin on her hand, gazing on adoringly.

Or sometimes they’d watch all-night monster movie marathons, or drive to the ocean and sit on the hood of the car and smoke cigarettes together (in the daydreams Gerard could always work his lighter first time) and then make love while the sun came up. Then they’d cuddle in the backseat, naked and wrapped in blankets, and she’d turn her face into his neck and murmur,

“You all right, man?”

Gerard blinked. “Uh,” he said cleverly, still occupied with tracing the imagined line of Naked Blanket Christina’s inner thigh.

There was some guy standing in front of him with a basket of muffins. “You’re sighing,” he said.

“What,” said Gerard.

“Like this,” Muffin Guy sighed to demonstrate. It was, Gerard thought with a wince, definitely a romantic daydream sigh and not a sigh of frustration or misery or anything socially acceptable like that. “You’re sighing,” Muffin Guy said again.

“You have muffins,” Gerard replied. Naked Blanket Christina hovered sadly on the edges of his vision, and Gerard turned away from Muffin Guy so he could concentrate on her, and the awesome conversation they were about to have about Gerard’s ability to see her true self.

“You have a pen,” Muffin Guy said, obviously not to be deterred.

Gerard said an internal, “I’ll be _five seconds_ ,” to Naked Blanket Christina and turned back to Muffin Guy. “What,” he said coldly. Fucking Muffin Guy, ruining his perfect imaginary date.

Muffin Guy reached out and plucked something – oh, a pen, right, Gerard vaguely remembered sticking it there – from behind Gerard’s ear. “Can you sign for these? You’re like the only person in this entire office.”

Gerard glanced around. It was true a lot of people were in a big meeting Gerard didn’t care about, but there were still at least twenty people seated nearby. He raised his eyebrows at Muffin Guy.

Muffin Guy just gestured hopefully at him with the pen. He was wearing thick black gloves.

“Fine,” Gerard grumbled, taking it.. “Since when do we have to sign for muffins anyway?”

“New regulations,” said Muffin Guy. He thrust a piece of paper at Gerard. “Baked Goods Act 2007.”

Gerard signed and gave him the pen and paper back.

Muffin Guy looked down at Gerard’s signature. “What is that, Garry?”

“Gerard,” said Gerard, mentally willing Muffin Guy to go the fuck away so Gerard could get back to Christina, _God_.

“Cool name,” said Muffin Guy, smiling.

“Okay,” said Gerard.

“I’m Frank, by the way,” said Muffin Guy.

“Okay,” said Gerard.

Muffin Guy just stood there for a second. Then he said, “Oh!” and handed over the basket of muffins.

Gerard tried not to stagger too obviously under the weight. What the hell? Were people smuggling lead in muffins now? “Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Muffin Guy. He looked a little bummed, for some reason. “Well, ‘bye, I guess.” He sloped off.

Gerard put the basket of muffins on Maria’s desk. Then he went back to the photocopier and Christina.

The scene in his head had moved on a little without his permission. It did that sometimes. Christina was splashing about in the waves, wearing that bikini she had on in the pictures on the cover of Gerard’s Mom’s gossip magazine.

Gerard wasn’t sure why his daydreams always ended up at the beach. He didn’t even like the beach. He supposed it was because the beach automatically involved Christina not wearing very many clothes, but that made him feel typical, which in turn made him feel grumpy and unfulfilled.

A bunch of people came out of a meeting room nearby, streaming past Gerard on the way back to their own desks.

“Muffins!” squealed Maria. Maria loved muffins.

Jenny, who sat opposite Maria, pouted. “I can’t believe we missed Muffin Guy for a stupid meeting.”

“I know,” said Maria. She took a big bite out of a muffin. It was hard to understand when she added, “Muffin Guy is so hot.”

“He’s weird,” said Gerard, and both girls gave him a startled look, as if they hadn’t know he was there, or that he could talk and hear them. He felt terrified, caught in their stares, so he offered, “His name’s Frank.”

“How do you know?” said Maria. She hopped off her chair and came over to Gerard – Gerard worked hard to not back away. Also the photocopier was right behind him. “Do you know him? Is he single?”

“I just met him just now, just for a second, that’s all,” said Gerard, avoiding Maria’s beady eyes. “He just told me his name, I don’t know anything else.”

“Frank!” said Jenny, helping herself to a muffin. “Frank the Muffin Guy.”

Maria gave Gerard a long, suspicious look, then slowly turned back to Jenny. “Frank the Hot Muffin Guy,” she said. Then, “You couldn’t ever really date a Muffin Guy, though.”

Jenny laughed with her mouth full. “I know, right? Mom, Dad, this is Frank. He’s a Muffin Guy!”

Both girls laughed. Gerard felt strangely offended on Muffin Guy’s behalf, but whatever.

The scene had moved on again. Christina’s bikini had come untied. In this daydream, Gerard was a strong swimmer with a washboard stomach who just happened to be walking by during her moment of need. He dove into the waves and went to her rescue.

“Earth to Photocopy Boy,” said Maria, but Gerard wasn’t listening anymore.

***

A few days later, Gerard was at the photocopier thinking about the hilarity that might ensue if he and Christina Ricci happened to sit next to each other on the subway, and their phones were identical and they swapped by mistake, and then she had to call him to find out where her phone was. Then they would end up talking for hours, and it would feel so natural and she would be surprised by how easy it was to open up to a complete stranger, and –

“Hey, Gerard.”

Gerard couldn’t believe it. Muffin Guy _again_. What, did the guy have an alarm that went off every time Gerard was getting some inside his own head? “You need something?”

“This is yours, I think?” Muffin Guy held his gloved hand out. He had Gerard’s pen. “I guess you gave it back to me before – I don’t know. But I thought you might need it.”

Gerard took it without thinking. “It’s just a pen,” he said.

Muffin Guy sort of shrugged and dipped his head. “It looks like a nice pen.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, then took a closer look by accident when the end-point of the roll set the pen in his line of sight. “Oh shit,” he said, “This is actually one of my good drawing pens.”

“So you did need it back!” said Muffin Guy, a little over-the-top excited about it.

“I actually did,” said Gerard. He put the pen in his top pocket. “Uh, thanks.”

Muffin Guy smiled. “You’re welcome.”

The photocopier fell into silence with a gasp, and Gerard busied himself getting the warm, fresh copies out and setting up a new job. When he looked up, Muffin Guy was still there. “Is there anything else?”

“Do you want to get a coffee?” Muffin Guy blurted out, and then went immediately and seriously red.

Gerard gaped. He could feel his face, he knew it was gaping. He couldn’t help it, though.

“Like, uh, uh, with me?” Muffin Guy stuttered, looking at a spot somewhere over Gerard’s head.

Gerard was suddenly very aware of Maria and Jenny watching them. They were both staring at their screens, but Gerard could tell. He grew up in a house with women and a little brother; he knew what it was to be Observed.

 _You couldn’t ever really date a Muffin Guy_ , he heard in his head, and he squared his shoulders and stared Muffin Guy right in the eyes. “Sure.”

“Really?” Muffin Guy’s face split into a huge smile and he started pulling off his gloves. “Okay, let me give you my number.”

Under the gloves Muffin Guy’s hands were tattooed all to fuck. Gerard really liked that, the fact that he was secretly cool under his clothes. Gerard was secretly cool under his clothes, too.

Muffin Guy – Frank, Gerard thought, he should probably start thinking of him as Frank if they were going to drink coffee together – finished writing his number on the back of one of Gerard’s fresh copies and handed it over. “So you’ll call me, right?”

“Definitely,” said Gerard, even though he probably wouldn’t because dating was such a one-way to heartbreak it wasn’t even funny. He liked seeing Maria and Jenny all purple in the face, though.

Frank nodded and smiled some more. “Okay,” he said, pulling his gloves back on. He headed over to the door and at the last minute looked over his shoulder and said, “Later, Photocopy Boy.”

Gerard sputtered a little, but Frank was already gone.

***

He surprised himself by calling Frank the very next day, and then shocked himself stupid by agreeing to meet Frank in a coffee house two blocks away that very evening.

“So what do you really wanna do?” Frank said, looking up at Gerard. He was making pictures with his finger and a pile of sugar on the table. “You’re not gonna photocopy stuff for the rest of your life, right?”

“Are you gonna deliver muffins for the next forty years?” Gerard said, and Frank laughed and shook his head.

Gerard told him about art school, and his brother, and his life, and everything, and Frank told him right back. Frank told him he’d asked Gerard for his signature to learn his name, and that he’d kept Gerard’s pen on purpose so he’d have a reason to come back.

“Meet-cute,” Gerard breathed, then said, “Uh, nothing,” when Frank asked him to repeat himself.

They got another cup of coffee each, and then one more. It felt so easy to talk to Frank, so natural. Gerard was in the middle of an anecdote about throwing up at the DC Comics Christmas party when he noticed that Frank had his chin on his hand, his head tipped to the side. He had his lower lip caught in his teeth. He was smiling.

“Are you gazing at me adoringly?” Gerard asked, and then tried to kill himself by willing it really hard.

“Totally,” said Frank.

Gerard looked down at the table. “You wanna go to the beach,” he mumbled, quietly so he could lie about it if Frank reacted badly.

“Sure,” said Frank. “You like the beach?”

“I hate it,” Gerard confessed.

Frank did the chin-hand-smile thing again. “Okay.”

***

The next week, Frank showed up with another basket of muffins.

Gerard was at the photocopier. He could feel Maria’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“You’re sighing,” said Frank, with a big smile.

Gerard thought about the night before, when they’d started to watch a monster movie marathon but given it up in favor of doing an experiment to see which foods in Frank’s fridge were good for sex, and which should be kept far, far away from anybody’s genitalia. “Hell fucking yes I fucking am,” he said, grinning like a loon.

Frank set the muffins down and leaned up on tip-toe to whisper in Gerard’s ear. “Come over again tonight. I might need some help with my bathing suit.”

Gerard didn’t actually mind doing the photocopying. It was sort of Zen, the repetitive movements and the muted whirr-flash-click of the machine. It was boring, but at least he didn’t have to talk to anybody while he was doing it, and it gave him plenty of time to marvel at the reality of Frank.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Baked Goods Act 2007](https://archiveofourown.org/works/396406) by [draconic_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconic_girl/pseuds/draconic_girl)




End file.
